


look how the bells toll for us, my love

by essenceofheroism



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: And More Angst, Angst, Captive Prince - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Weddings, and angsty talks a, damen x laurent, damionos, its a little of both, laurent of vere, three times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7672489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essenceofheroism/pseuds/essenceofheroism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the bells have rang, once, twice, thrice. </p><p>(“Is it still so blurry how I feel—“</p><p>“No,” said Laurent. “No, I’m trying to—“ </p><p>He tried again.</p><p>“I am trying to let myself have this. I don’t think I deserve it.”)</p><p>they’d built a kingdom on something like peace, and given it the name of home.<br/>a kingdom or this. the bells tolled again. this and this and this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	look how the bells toll for us, my love

i.  
“Bells,” said Damen, and Laurent smiled, despite it. Later, Paschal came down to patch Damen’s wound and Damen found himself in his old chambers after what seemed like a thousand lifetimes over. The walls were still the same, the bed untouched and pristine, the floor dusty, because apparently Kastor had not cared enough to have Damianos’ chamber tended. A soft grunt escaped his throat when Laurent lay his full weight on the soft linens, and the concerned tug between Laurent’s eyebrows was sweeter than honey. 

“Attend me,” Damen said, his voice a little parched but full.  
Laurent laughed and said, “You take liberties,” as he pushed his knees on the mattress. 

“Attend me, Your Highness,” amended Damen with a smile, and Laurent did move his fingers then, stopping only to comment, “There really isn’t much to attend, frankly.” 

“In our kingdom, we will have everything you wish for, except for the laces from hell that you think so necessary to your clothing.” 

“It really isn’t that bad.” 

“They take an embarrassingly long time to undo.”

Laurent smiled, “What an important consideration.” 

Later, Laurent picked up the gold laurel and set it gently in Damen’s curls and moved to set the gold circlet in his hair when Damen said, “Let me,” and he did. 

“Are you sure you want to go out like this? You cannot walk.”

“Will you support me?” Damen said, and Laurent replied with a “Yes” to the double meaning. 

When the sun burst through the doors of the palace of Ios, the crowd launched in an outburst of appreciative symphony, their voices rising in a cacophony to welcome their new King. Kings. Laurent’s hand on Damen’s back, they walked out on the heightened threshold of the palace, the breeze tumbling over the ocean, caressing the city with a salt-filled peaceful stroke. Veretians and Alkelons alike, hearts beating in sync with the pride of their rising kings. 

There, the bells tolled again, beautiful and rhythmic and there, they announced their reign, and they announced the vision for a kingdom in harmony and, when the bells rang their final toll, the crowd hummed, “Long live the Kings.” 

 

ii. 

“It’s the Royal Wedding,” said Nikandros in utmost frustration, pacing back and forth on the rug of the Great Hall to the point of wearing it down permanently. 

“It’s his Royal Wedding and he’s still not in the palace. I don’t understand how a King can be this inconsiderate.” 

Jord smiled, “Laurent’s with him too, you know. They’re at the summer palace together.”

“Yes, but they were supposed to return by last night. All the arrangements have been made and the priest is likely to show up any second now. Even the Council has arrived.”

“You sound like it’s your wedding, calm down.”  
Nikandros frowned, and for a second, with all the wedding arrangements and exaggerated whispers of unions and love, Jord gave himself a small moment to think of Aimeric. He let go of the memory as soon as he had summoned it and he opened his eyes to swallow again at the sound of Nikandros’ voice. 

“Exalted! Finally!” and he turned to find an annoyed looking Laurent with a Damen with a smile like the blinding sun. 

“Damen, you’re late.” 

“Damen held us up,” Laurent replied, feigning annoyance but his smile was one Jord hadn’t seen since Auguste. 

When they finally dressed and rushed to the alter in haste (much to Laurent’s disdain), Damen in rich red and gold and Laurent in burning blue, the wedding bells chimed sweetly as Damen’s fingers tangled in the golden strands of Laurent’s hair and Laurent leaned his neck upwards to meet with Damen. 

(The following morning, when Laurent was fixing the laurel on Damen’s hair in the Great Hall, Herode, the only council member from the old Veretian council, commented something like, “How will we know if the Royal Wedding has been consummated?” The Veretian tradition had been discarded in this united kingdom but the courtiers, servants and soldiers alike in the Hall looked up with wide eyes at the adjoined golden thrones. It was an awkward silence that swept the hall at Herode’s question and a sly smile began crawling up Lauren’s lips as he looked up at Damen mockingly. 

Herode, knowing fully of the eradication of this custom, still continued in a hearty voice, “The Council supposes the Kings are still free to attain another spouse as the current marriage has not been verified by means of holy consummation,” and the Council nodded heartily. 

Damen looked in horror at Laurent’s amused face, then at the stunned court, then at Herode with a menacing glare and cleared his throat, “It has been consummated! Verification is given by your King and I order this matter adjourned.” The flush that crawled up his neck mimicked that of the members of the court, especially that of Pallas and Jord and he closed his eyes then looked at Laurent, “I don’t know why I married a Veretian.”) 

 

iii. 

Laurent remembered the night of his ascension. It had been dimly lit, the chamber of the palace in Ios, where he lay by Damen’s side. It was quiet too, the peaceful, soft kind of quietness, that was disturbed only by the sound of the flickering candles and the ruffle of the sheets beneath them. He turned to face Damen. 

“I’m thinking about what would have happened if things did not work in my favour today.” 

Damen turned to face him, already drugged half to sedation by the drugs from Paschal. 

“But they did. You think too much.” Laurent’s fingers ran in soft circles on his wound. 

“I offered you all you needed to march in Ios. I wanted at least one of us to conquer,” Laurent said quietly. He was a little surprised by how sincere he sounded, it almost sounded like a weakness. He told himself Damen would not use his weaknesses against him. 

“I—I didn’t know what he said,” Laurent said, “would make you react the way you did.” He was talking about the how the Regent’s words about Laurent’s treatment had angered Damen at the Kingsmeet. Damen laughed softly, his eyes closed. 

“I have—“ He stopped himself.  
“I have wanted you for so long, I can’t remember when I decided to protect you.” 

Laurent lowered his eyes, “Is that why you came? To protect me?” 

“My crown without yours would feel hollow, Laurent. Why did you think otherwise? I would never— I wouldn’t take the crown without you.”

“I was trying to treat your heart tenderly. I was trying to not break your trust. After Auguste—“ He stopped himself, swallowing the burn in his throat. 

“After Auguste, I don’t think I’ve trusted anyone to take control of me like this. I feel like I gave you a key to myself and I couldn’t—I couldn’t have that taken away a second time.” 

Damen looked him a long time, bringing his finger to trace Laurent’s jawline. 

“I don’t understand how you can forgive me, Damen,” Laurent said, shifting, and causing long shadows to be painted over the thick stone walls. 

“I don’t understand why you came back, I’m grateful for it, but I don’t know why you risked a kingdom over this.”

It was a quiet admission, whispered into the night in a way that stripped Laurent of all his armour and his skin. He felt vulnerable to the point where his heart hammered in his chest, warning him of how defenceless he was. Burning with the reminder that Damen would do to him what his uncle did and yet, Damen’s lips at his neck dispersed his insecurities like sand on a windy day. 

“A kingdom over you,” Damen said. Damen was aware of Laurent breathing a little shallow now. He turned his head sideways, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Laurent’s eyes closed as if in desperate appeal or prayer, like it was hard to believe, or maybe it was difficult. 

“Is it still so blurry how I feel—“

“No,” said Laurent. “No, I’m trying to—“ 

He tried again.

“I am trying to let myself have this. I don’t think I deserve it.” ‘I don’t think deserve you’ is what Laurent didn’t say. 

Something like a slow, dull ache floundered in Damen.

“I believe you do.” 

“The scars on your back tell another story.” And then Damen had poured forgiveness in him through a kiss that spoke of all that Laurent wanted and needed, with the silent hope that maybe, just maybe, one day he would forgive himself too. 

 

The bells rang, in the cold winter day, loud and incessant and more than anything, they were haunting.  
Again, they rang, death bells, announcing the death of a King. 

Laurent stood, his lips cold and his hands frigid, on the same threshold where he and Damen had ascended several years ago. 

“Today marks the day, that his Royal Highness, King Damianos of the Kingdom of Akielos and Vere, is put to rest.” 

The bells rang. 

Laurent closed his eyes, there was a weight in his chest, something like claws pulling something out of his ribcage. 

“I think if I gave you my heart, you would treat it tenderly.” And he had, tenderly and gently, Laurent had healed Damen of the wounds from Kaster, from the Regent, and mostly from himself. Slowly and passionately, he had burned kisses of forgiveness and tales of promise down his throat and his jaw and everything in between. 

Along the way, he realized, he’d forgiven himself too. They’d built a kingdom on something like peace, and given it the name of home. When Damen had died, Laurent realized, it felt like Auguste all over again, maybe even worse. It felt like sand slipping through his fingers. (He tried helplessly to collect it all.) It felt like his heart getting ripped out of his chest and his bloodied fingers tried to push it back into his chest. (He wanted to learn to breathe again.) It felt like vulnerability, like being shelterless, homeless, with a kingdom as a roof above his head, he felt exposed. 

Laurent was once again just left Prince Laurent of Vere, the way he had been before Demon, frigid and with veins that sang of loneliness. It felt somehow, different, because he knew that even in his terrible, cruel solitude, Damen would always be in his veins, in his eyes, his fingers tangled in his hair. He would always be here, in this kingdom and Laurent would rule for both of them together, with Damen’s laurel in his hair, until bells rang for him too. There would be no Patron princess, no daughter of Vask. There would be this and this and this, Damen’s lips and his eyes and his voice, until there was no Laurent of Vere, and no one to carry Damianos of the united kingdom in his bones. 

A kingdom or this. The bells tolled again. This and this and this.


End file.
